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I wish I had been there. I wish I could have been there to see him when he was young, talk to him, see his mother –  see his mother, my grandmother. She died when she was only 27 years old.  He was only 6. I have been spending some precious time listening to my…

We just met them.  But there is an instant connection. Laughing together, eating together, crying together…  speaking the same language. They have been in the South for a year now.  A year. And they arrived from Iraq. An Armenian family living in Iraq. From Iraq. To the South. Here. There is so much I could…

I have been spending time going through old journals for the past couple of weeks.  I have been reading a couple of entries, here and there, when I have a moment to myself… a moment of quiet and I take one of these journals, make myself a cup of tea and read.  I read about…

This is one of my favourite poems…  by Yeghishe Charents –  ????? ?????? Enjoy. I love the sun-baked taste of Armenian words, the lilt of ancient lutes in sweet laments, our blood-red, fragrant roses bending as in Nayiran dances, danced still by our girls. I love the deep night sky, our lakes of light, the…

I did it. I asked my ever enthusiastic passionate emotions overflowing little one to “speak Armenian, please…” As she experiments with English – she knows it quite well – and goes on and on telling us stories, I, with a feeling of panic, ask her gently to stick to her Mother tongue… I did this….